


Junebug

by venus_san



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Sexual Assault, Binge Drinking, Childhood Trauma, Developing Friendships, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Field Trip, Hurt/Comfort, Jung Wooyoung-centric, M/M, Mommy Issues, Mutual Pining, Mythology References, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Summer Vacation, These Bitches Need Therapy, also the trip probably wouldnt happen irl bcus as far as i know unis dont rlly hand out free trips, but equally unrealistic was college students paying to make it happen themselves, i project an unhealthy amount onto wooyoung, lots of references to the sea and the stars, san is kind of a manic pixie dream girl im so sorry, this is equally parts of about gay yearning as it is about finding yourself and healing from trauma, will trigger warning when needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venus_san/pseuds/venus_san
Summary: Jung Wooyoung is a bit of a human disaster, a Molotov cocktail of a person. He's more inclined to care about partying and sex than he is about the miserable work for his business major. To anyone on the outside, it appears like he's diving headfirst off a cliff. And it seems that way; he's on the verge of flunking out and his mental stability teeters precariously in place, seesawing back and forth between reckless abandon and total apathy. That's until he signs up for a mythology course for his summer semester that'll take him on the trip of a lifetime to Greece and Italy. The trip sends him on a crash course to reckoning with himself, his future, and his past.Then there's Choi San, a fellow student on the trip, who's more than a bit strange and Wooyoung is enthralled by. Except Wooyoung doesn't do love. But he's quickly learning, life is chalk full of curve-balls.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Junebug

When Wooyoung was ten years old his mother purchased a book on mythology for him. At first, the thing that most piqued his interest was that the hardcover book was bigger than his whole head. He marvelled at the shiny finish and the way it made a hollow noise when he knocked his fist against the cover. Printed on the front was a rather gruesome illustration of a man in golden armor beheading a woman with glimmering, green snakes for hair, a spray of blood following the arc of his bronze sword. After he got his hands on it, it didn’t take long for Wooyoung to devour the contents of the book. 

There was no special occasion that prompted the purchase of the book, sometimes his mother would go on sprees like this, bring him back an assortment of baubles but forget to get groceries. When he grew older, this habit bloomed great resentment in him, but when he was younger, it made him happy. To ten year old Wooyoung, when he held that book in his hands, it was proof his mother cared about him. 

From a young age, his mother had fostered in him an insatiable love for reading. She made library trips a regular and favorite activity and even dedicated a corner of their cramped living room to reading cranny just for him. It was there that Wooyoung became intimately familiar with the stories in the book, situated in the windowsill on hot summer days, sweat dripping down his neck as he palmed through the text, his leg dangling over the ledge despite the several stories drop onto the sidewalk concrete. His mother hated when he did that. 

In the myths Wooyoung found an odd sense of comfort and safety, it didn’t matter whether it was the story of a hero or a tragedy, each tale beckoned forth a sanctuary for him to rest in. Reading had always been his escape. One that was sorely needed from the malice and scrutiny he faced from his peers at school. He carried that book with him everywhere he went, even if it made his back ache from the extra weight. Wooyoung read it on the bus to school, during class on his lap despite chastisement from his teachers, on lunch break when he fled to the stalls to eat the lunch he made for himself at 7 am. 

When Wooyoung was fourteen he took the book, spine falling apart from the constant use, pages stained with various food and drink, down to a secondhand shop and sold it for a measly 6,000 won. The weight of the book of his hands signified a chapter in his life he had wanted to close. 

So it’s strange when after years of forgetting the book, he finds himself in the second semester of his sophomore year of university signing up for a course on Greco-Roman Mythology and History purely because of the familiar, almost friendly, fond ache in his chest. Adult Wooyoung is not driven by nostalgia, preferring to erase every trace of the person that existed before he entered college and become something new, fresh, unhindered by the baggage of his past. It makes people think he’s rather callous, the way he forges ahead with little regard for the sentimental, the ooey gooey stuff close to your heart. One night when they’re both cross-faded beyond belief, Yeosang turns to Wooyoung and says he is something of a hedonist, that he has no mind for anything beyond the brief, stunted pleasure of the present. Tunnel vision, he calls it, in the headlights of a speeding car. 

The class is relatively small, fourteen people in total, and Wooyoung drags Yeosang and Yunho into enrolling with him for moral support. People’s general opinion on him is rather negative, one of the many unfortunate side effects of his debonair lifestyle, and many just downright hate his guts. He doesn’t know how either of his only two friends on campus stand him. Yeosang and he have been attached at the hip since high school. But Wooyoung has always been convinced that had begun out of necessity and eventually Yeosang will leave him behind for someone who actually deserves his friendship. Yunho is his roommate and as someone who’s witnessed him throw a laptop out a window during finals week he should probably want to be as far away from Wooyoung as possible but he does the opposite. The latter is pleasantly receptive to taking a class with Wooyoung while it takes some bartering with Yeosang to get him to show up for solidarity. The price he pays for Yeosang’s company in class deeply hurts his wallet as three times a week he has to show up with his best friend’s exorbitantly overpriced order from Starbucks. 

However, in the end it ends up being worth it. Professor Willoughby makes material that Wooyoung would’ve kicked and screamed about in high school not only bearable, but downright enjoyable. No other class in his time at university has so wholly enraptured Wooyoung’s attention. Perhaps it is the foriegn man’s eccentric charm; the strange patterned ties he wears and his signature tweed jacket, the fact he’s never been seen drinking anything other than iced tea, his glass eye, and most significant, the utter drama in the way he teaches the stories they learn. It’s something he envies, the gravity of the man’s presence when he reenacts scenes from the text or when he just reads straight from the text and his voice is silky smooth with a depth the seas would fight tooth and nail for. 

One night when they’re cramming for a pop quiz that Sihyeon had kindly informed them of, Yeosang says that Wooyoung’s a little obsessed with their professor. _It’s almost like you’re making him into a surrogate father figure_. If anyone else had said this, their relationship would have been permanently ruined. Instead, Yeosang gets the silent treatment for a few days until he offers to take Wooyoung out on the town and everything is right in the world again. 

For the first week, Wooyoung tries to ignore his other classmates. It proves to be fruitless. Yunho makes friends fast and easy, well-known and liked around campus, so it’s no surprise that he’s already on good terms with almost everyone in the class. To Wooyoung’s horror, both his roommate and best friend team up to force him to at least acquaint himself with his classmates. 

In all honesty, it’s scary for Wooyoung to have all these connections when for so long he had barely any. His first instinct is to ruin it all by being an ass, but in the end it’s Yeosang who keeps him from running away. _Tunnel vision in the headlights of a speeding car_. Most of the time Wooyoung feels like he’s laying down in the middle of a road at night while the fluorescent colors of the traffic light dance across his face, not a car to be seen for miles. 

Midway through the course, Professor Willoughby announces that their class has a special opportunity: during the summer semester the school would sponsor a trip to Italy and Greece for them to continue their studies of mythology and Greco-Roman history. Most in the class are eager to sign up, since most students don’t get to travel much because of how expensive it is and the fees are minimal, it’s a rare chance to get out and explore the world. 

Wooyoung isn't sure. Not at first. Yunho balks at him when he tells him, shocked, he says, because when has Jung Wooyoung ever turned down a good time?

The answer comes like it usually does with Wooyoung. From where he least expects it. 

He’s out buying a pack of beer for Yeosang and him to share over shitty movies when he runs into one of his classmates, San, while out at the corner store. The man is crouched in the candy aisle, slender hands ( _pianist hands_ , his grandmother would call them) gripped tightly on his bent knees, staring at the various brightly colored bags of gummies hanging from the shelves with eyebrows drawn together harshly. He’s got a pensive look coloring his handsome face and puffs out a breath, blowing stray pieces of shaggy, bleached blond hair from his vision. Wooyoung freezes in the aisle, surprised to encounter San outside the classroom. He flounders for a moment internally, just standing there, gaze latched onto his classmate. 

San’s head jerks in his direction and he blinks a few times before grabbing the other by the hand and dragging him down to his level. A startled noise leaves Wooyoung upon finding his hand nestled into the other’s. Embarrassingly, his chest swells at the action, like he’s a school boy instead of a grown man. But it’s still strange. He opens his mouth to say as much when San starts to speak, “I literally cannot choose what to buy… Wooyoung-ssi,” his eyes bore into him, “you seem like a man of good taste. Choose for me.” 

Their hands are still entangled together and the only reason Wooyoung isn’t lashing out at him out of pure shock at this moment is because the warmth anchors him to the semi-realness of the corner store. San continues to stare at him expectantly, but Wooyoung’s throat has closed up. No words would come out if he even tried. 

“Why do you look like I just killed someone in front of you?” There’s a curious glint in the other man’s eyes that makes Wooyoung squirm. “Is it because we’re holding hands?”

“San-ssi,” Wooyoung finally manages to say, his voice a soft rasp, “do you act like this around all strangers?”

“We’re not strangers,” San responds firmly, his eyes narrowing. “We’re classmates.”

_Classmates that have barely uttered a word to each other beyond this current conversation_ , Wooyoung thinks to himself. Although, he must admit, much of that is his own fault. When it comes to San, he allows himself little interaction with the man outside of wistfully staring at the back of his head in class. He knows San has a much more solid relationship with his other classmates. Their class has a group chat and he often responds to their invitations to study or just hang out. Wooyoung has barely sent anything in the chat. He has barely said anything to San. But he has looked at San. He has looked at San so often and so long it’s painful to drag his gaze away from him anytime he’s in the room. 

Wooyoung lets out an airy laugh, “We’ve barely spoken to each other before this.” He glances upwards at the assortment of gummies, the colorful packaging an eye-sore, and lands on gummy worms. Gently, he frees his left hand from San’s and picks out a bag and tosses it into the other’s basket. “Those were my favorite as a kid.” 

When he rises up from his squatting position, a dull burn in his thighs, San follows. The other man runs his hands through his hair, a small, lazy grin emerging on his face, “Well, you can’t say we’re strangers now. I know something personal about you know.” 

“Oh?” He can’t help the jackal of a smile that grows on his own face in response. “My favorite childhood candy is deeply personal information now?”

“ _Deeply_ ,” San says with a laugh, leaning a bit into Wooyoung’s space, his grin now wide and toothy. 

As San walks up to the register, Wooyoung follows behind him, his pace a little slower. It’s hard to pinpoint where the urge to keep his distance originates from but he knows for certain the knot in his chest that arrives in San’s presence is reason enough. However, it seems the other man has no plans on letting Wooyoung return to his own plane of existence, instead reeling him into his orbit and holding him there. And it isn’t hard to orbit San. He has his own gravitational pull. 

With a thud, San drops his basket on the countertop and the cashier shakes himself awake. He begins to scan the items slowly, appearing still half-asleep. Catching onto the cashier’s predicament, San turns around to face Wooyoung, propping his back against the edge of the counter. “Are you going on the trip for the summer semester?”

Wooyoung's grip tightens on the six pack in his hands. “I don’t know. Probably not.” 

“Really?” San tilts his head. It feels like he sees right through Wooyoung. “Not one for adventure?”

“What?” Wooyoung barks out a laugh. “C’mon man, there’s no way you don’t know about my reputation.” 

“Acting stupid isn’t the same thing,” his lips are now set into a thin line. San tugs on the sleeves of his hoodie and looks out into the night through the store’s doors. 

The air between them now is heavy and Wooyoung wishes he would be buried alive by the weight. With a sigh, he stares down at his shoes, “I’m not sure why I haven’t decided to go. It feels....hazy.” 

Most days, Wooyoung walks through life in a thick fog. This moment in the corner store with San avoiding his eyes, it feels like it might finally part. 

San hums, “I mean, why’d you even join the class in the first place? Aren’t you a business major?”  
  


Wooyoung shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t know how to answer. Why did he join the course? It certainly was far less miserable than any of the courses he was taking for his major requirement. That’s what he tells San and the other nods but stares at him like he knows that isn’t the whole truth. 

“Why are you going?” Wooyoung asks to deflect attention from himself. He’s also genuinely interested in hearing what San has to say.  
  


“Hold on,” San turns to face the cashier who’s finished scanning his items and is rattling off the price. The man winces a bit before handing over a few bills. While he waits for his change, San continues, “I’m studying astronomy, which is, weirdly, why I signed up for Willoughby’s class. Greek myth has a lot of influence on constellations and the like. Finding out about the stories behind them has been super fascinating, and well, honestly I’d like to see the stars from where those who told those stories saw them.” 

“Aren’t they the same stars as anywhere?” Wooyoung shuffles forward as San pockets his change and moves away from the counter. The transaction is quicker now, seeing as he just has one item. 

As Wooyoung pays, San replies, “I mean, yes, technically, but looking at the stars from the city is different from looking at them in the countryside. It’s a different perspective.” 

He nods. Growing up in the city meant that the lights and smog blotted out all but the brightest stars. But when one travels away from people it’s another case entirely. Wooyoung recalls a camping trip his father took him on where they hiked to a small outcropping of rocks and laid there late at night staring up at the stars. They had been many and bright, taking up the whole night sky with their brilliance. Wooyoung had thought they were from a world wholly alien to his own. He’d seen those stars and thought they were keyholes to a place where things could shine without burning out and disappearing. 

This, however, was before he learned that even stars could die. 

Wooyoung takes the beer from the counter and wishes the cashier, who has already nodded off again, a good night. To his surprise San waits for him when he walks out the store. 

“Wooyoung-ssi,” San says, quiet, but not light, “I really think you should come on the trip.”

“I don’t know-” 

San cuts him off, “There was a reason you joined this class, right? And there’s a reason you enjoy it more than your other ones. You need to figure out whatever’s stopping you from continuing to do something you enjoy and come to terms with it.”

“Since when did you become my therapist?” Wooyoung scoffs. 

To his great chagrin, San just smiles. “I mean, at the very least, why pass up on the opportunity to see the sea? It’s beautiful there.” 

Something stabs in his chest. He remembers summer trips to the sea with his mother. The sand always burned his feet like hot coals but he sunk them into it anyway, basking in the warm embrace. Wooyoung would scour the beach, feet aflame, searching for sea glass and pretty rocks, pocketing whatever he found. When he was done he’d run to find his mother, who would stand just beyond the shore, letting the dying breaths of waves wash over her bare feet. Her gaze would be fixed on the horizon, something in her gaze reflecting the sea itself, and she would turn to him and let him show her all that he had collected. One day, she’d pointed outwards, _I’d like to drift away out there for a while. Wouldn’t you, Wooyoung? Just go out and let the sea love you for all you’re worth. Let it take you somewhere better._

Wooyoung swallows the wet ache in his throat, “Goodnight, San.” He starts to walk off and then turns back to face him. “I’ll think about it, ok?” Then he waves and returns back to Yeosang and his apartment and gets drunk with his best friend. 

But he does think. He thinks about San, the sea and that damned book. Wooyoung thinks about his mother and her strange gifts and knows deep down inside that she got that book for a reason. It was the same reason that she never swam in the sea but always looked out over it all, with only her feet in the water. It’s the same way he looks at San. It’s the way one looks at something they so desperately want but can’t have. His mother wanted to go somewhere better. Wooyoung isn’t sure what he wants, just knows that San makes him want in a way he hasn’t in a long time. And then there’s the sea. It’s beautiful. And it might take him somewhere better. 

_Come to terms with it_ , San had said. Wooyoung thinks he’ll try to. 

Yeosang is surprised when he wakes up the next morning, hungover but full of something that feels a lot like hope, and tells him he’s going. “What changed?” he asks. 

  
“I don’t know.” Wooyoung says back but he knows. _San, the sea, the damned book. (His mother.)_ He knows.


End file.
